


Vanya Legovski's Tale

by Anonymous



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Eurovision, eurovision 2010
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24413632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Vanya Legovski is a Czech student. Vanya's girlfriend breaks up with him for one of the entrants at the Eurovision 2010 in Oslo. So he goes there to sabotage the contest. But can he do it, or does he fall for one of the contestants?
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	Vanya Legovski's Tale

"Azenka please, Azenka, listen to me! Don't go, you can't!"  
"You just don't get it, do you?! I don't want you Vanya, I want him!"  
She turned and walked away from me. The door slammed shut, and I heard her footsteps slowly fade as she walked out of my house, and out of my life. I sat there on the bed for a while, not really registering what had just happened, my mind blank. She was gone. She had left me. I looked around the bedroom. My bedroom. Formerly our bedroom. Her things were gone, she had taken them this morning. She had decided that enough was enough, and that she was going away to Norway. Indefinitely.  
I trawled back downstairs and collapsed on my chair, devoid of all purpose. I sat there for a while, just staring at the television, sitting as the emptiness consumed me. The TV wasn't even switched on. It was blank, like my soul. There was no point in turning it on. I now have no one to watch it with anyway.  
"This will pass," I thought to myself, "Everything passes. Maybe I should just try to forget about her. Besides, there are plenty of other fish in the sea."  
I knew that was a lie. A damn dirty lie and I knew it. I don't even know why I bother trying to lie to myself. Even with all the fish in the sea, none would ever be as beautiful as her. It was almost as if someone up there decided that she was too good for me. Too good for a lowly Czech student.  
What if it was her who decided she was too good for me?  
I needed to distract myself from this hard time, so I grabbed my remote, and flicked on the television, and there before me, was the logo of the Eurovision Song Contest. A logo now associated with so much pain and heartbreak. The logo... sneering at me. Filling me with so much hate and revulsion. I was so sick of seeing that terrible logo. It was three weeks until the awful thing even took place, and yet, here it was on this news channel. I sighed. As a resident of the Czech Republic, I would have expected there to not be any coverage of that rubbish, and besides, we weren't even in it this year. It just filled me with so much anger. Especially when it reminded me of...  
I sighed again, trying not to think of her, looking down at the TV remote, at all those bright buttons. I jabbed at it a few times, to take the offending images away from my screen, and yet, almost as if the cruel gods were toying with me, it only turned to another news channel, with the news presenters laughing and joking about... you guessed it, the Eurovision Song Contest. There were no words to describe the seething anger I felt as it's name was mentioned again. The logos, the lights, the songs... everything about it... it had become synonymous with her...  
I hit the off button on the TV remote and then hurled it to the floor in a fit of rage. Why has she left me? I did everything that was asked of me... and yet, she cheated on me. I bet by now you want to know what my ex-girlfriend has to do with the Eurovision, and I will tell you. She loves the Eurovision, and, as I have already mentioned, she cheated on me. What I didn't mention was that it was with one of the entrants for this year. They knew who it was, I didn't. This was not all. She openly bragged about it to her friends, to her family. They knew that his Eurovision song was written just for her. How disgusting, a love song written for her by some tool she's only known for five seconds! They all laughed at me behind my back. They all laughed at me. What do they have to laugh about? Why? I loved her with all of my heart, and yet she did this? There was nothing. Nothing left in my life that was worth anything anymore. The worst part is, is that if she took me back, I'm sure I would forgive her for all of this. Or would I?  
I walked over to my computer and slumped into my chair. There was nothing and I felt nothing. There was a coldness all around me. There were times when she would hold me, tell me that there's nothing to worry about. She would comfort me in my times of darkness. It wasn't cold back then. But now it was. It was almost as if I had been thrust into a permanent coldness. I could see no ending of the dark times ahead, no light at the end of the tunnel. There were no silver linings on my clouds. I know it may sound silly, but this horrid emptiness has been in part, or even completely, caused by the Eurovision song contest.  
My computer flicked on, and I hit the 'Internet Explorer' button, not knowing what I was looking for. Just something, anything, to distract me from this constant torture of having to live without her every single day. I hit 'google news', and there, underneath all the important headlines, was news about the Eurovision. Damn it, will I ever get away from the blasted thing? But then the title of it caught my eye. It read 'Fact file: A tour around the Eurovision hotel'. Well, it can't hurt to see where it's being held, right? Surely not. Besides, I was now a little morbidly curious about the whole thing. I hesitated for a moment before clicked the mouse, opening a website with tons of images, these were those of the Eurovision hotel. I suppose a particularly internet savvy user could have figured out where exactly this hotel was from the information that was provided. I reminded myself to look into it later. And there was another thing I had to do... google the entrants. I needed to know what they look like. I needed to know. I typed 'Eurovision 2010' into google, and there popped up a group picture of all the entrants. Somewhere in there was my nemesis. I looked at the names of all of them. I hated everything about him, even if I didn't know exactly who it was. Most of all, the way he took Azenka away from me. I wanted revenge. No, I needed revenge. A plan was slowly forming in my head, and it would involve this little song contest and whichever entrant it was who had took her from me. And I knew the perfect way to do it. Eurovision had to be stopped. And the entrant in question's song had to be sabotaged.

* * *

There I stood, on the streets of Oslo. Nameless people pushing past me. They didn't care for me, and I didn't care for them. I wished the worst upon them all. I walked down the old, bumpy road, along the way I stood in a puddle and got water in my shoe, but who cares. There is nothing left any more in the empty black void that is my life. My only love, cruelly snatched from me by a wicked ESC contestant.  
I looked up, and there, towering above me, was a hotel, but not just any hotel, this was the hotel that had been booked for the people involved in the Eurovision. I knew Anezka would be watching. She always watched the contest, it's like an obsession with her. Last year, she watched it snuggled up to me. This year, she betrayed my trust and got with one of the contestants behind my back. My hand clenched in anger. Why was she doing this to me? I felt a strange feeling. Strong, all-consuming hate. Hate like nothing I've ever felt before. Hate, not just for the contestant, but now, also for her. I hate you Azenka. I hate you with all of my heart. We are over. We are finished. We are through.

* * *

The plan was going perfectly. I now had a job in the hotel that was being used for the Eurovision. I will spare you all the details, but I had managed to worm myself into the so-called 'Eurovision bubble'. Sometimes I saw some of the entrants wandering around the hotel, and I felt myself fill with rage. Were they the one? The entrant who had done this to me? What if I knew who it was? What if I then saw them? How would I react?  
The hotel was mostly empty. I walked down a long corridor, thinking about how to stop this contest. The Eurovision entrants had the hotel to themselves today. They were getting used to the place, and today they would be here all by themselves. Perfect. I made my way to the main foyer room. Part of me didn't really care for Anezka anymore, but I had already made it this far, so why not continue?


End file.
